Until Jax
Page 19
Handing over her coat, I grab the keys from the counter and head for the door, holding it open for her to go out before me. Then I wait, watching as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, pulls her jacket on, and then slides past me out the door, ducking her head as she moves to my truck.
“You’re driving, baby.” Her body turns toward me and I toss the Rover keys to her. She catches them, muttering something under her breath before stomping to the driver’s side, popping the locks, and getting in behind the wheel. Sliding into the passenger seat, I fight back my smile and the urge to pound my chest like some kind of caveman as she looks around the car. Her eyes sparkle with excitement and happiness, even though she tries to hide it as she starts up the car and moves her hands along the steering wheel.
“Do you think this would be a good time to tell you I don’t have my driver’s license?” she asks, putting the car in reverse, pressing the gas then braking hard, causing me to lurch forward before slamming back against my seat. Feeling my heart pound in my chest, I’m about to tell her we’ll add driving to the list, when she breaks into a fit of laughter that causes my chest to tighten.
Without thinking, I wrap my hand around the side of her head, tangling my fingers in her hair, and pull her towards me roughly, covering her mouth with mine and swallowing her laughter down my throat as I thrust my tongue into her mouth. Her hands on my chest that had started out pushing me away wrap around my shirt and pull me closer. Groaning as she whimpers, I start slowing down the kiss, swiping my tongue across hers once more, then pull her bottom lip into my mouth, giving it a tug and soft peck before reluctantly pulling my mouth away and placing my forehead against hers. Opening my eyes, I notice hers are still closed.
“That…that was wow,” she whispers, opening her eyes slowly and swallowing when our gazes connect. “Is it always like that?” she asks in a whisper.
Placing my other hand on the underside of her jaw, I mutter, “Never, baby.”
“We…um…” She looks away. “We should get breakfast,” she states after a long moment, slipping from my grasp, her eyes going to the windshield before looking at me once more. She shakes her head and places her fingers against her lips, taking a breath then shaking her head again.
“You taste like you smell,” I tell her, not wanting her to forget I’m here with her, that I’m still in the car, that just because my mouth isn’t on hers doesn’t mean I can’t still taste or feel her lips against mine, her hands wrapped around my shirt. Putting the car in reverse, she begins to back out without acknowledging my comment, which only eggs me on. I know she wants me as badly as I want her, and I refuse to let her ignore this thing brewing between us just because she’s afraid.
“I wonder if the rest of you tastes like that.” I smirk as she slams on the brakes, jolting the car. “You okay to drive, baby? I don’t mind taking over if you need time.”
“Jax,” she warns, turning to glare at me.
“Baby, unless you’re gonna give me something to eat at home,” I drop my eyes to her lap, “then take me to get food.” Lifting my gaze to hers, I watch her cheeks turn an even darker shade of pink that starts to spread down her neck.
“You really like embarrassing me, don’t you?” She frowns, breathing heavily, something that says she’s not embarrassed, but turned on.
“If you’re asking if I want to lick over the pink your skin turns to see if it has a flavor, then the answer is yes.”
“Oh, my God,” she whispers, covering her face with her hands.
Laughing, I pull her hands away from her face. “Okay, baby, I’ll stop.” Bringing one of her hands to my mouth and kissing it, I mutter, “Scout’s honor,” while holding up two fingers.
“I doubt you were ever a boy scout.” She rolls her eyes before looking over her shoulder and backing onto the street.
When we arrive at the restaurant, the place is packed, like it normally is on Saturday morning. You can tell by the crowd that most of the patrons were up late partying. Almost everyone has on sweats, and half are wearing sunglasses and holding coffee cups in their grasp, praying it cures the hangover they are suffering from. Placing my hand against Ellie’s lower back, I move us through the small restaurant to the back, where there is a free table for two, sitting close to the counter where you can watch the three cooks on the grill.
“Jax,” Jones, the owner and my friend, calls from behind the counter, where he’s stationed flipping eggs. Jones and I went to school together. He played football with me; his short, stocky build ruled the field every time he stepped onto the turf. He was our secret weapon. Hell, he still is.
“How’s it going, man?” I ask, pulling out Ellie’s chair for her to sit before taking my seat across from her, which gives me a view of the whole place.
“Can’t complain too much.” He smiles.
“You know you owe me ten on the Giants game, right?” I remind him, watching as he shakes his head, grinning.
“You’re really gonna make me pay up?” he asks, pointing at himself.
“Fuck yeah, you would’ve had my ass behind that grill if I lost.”
“You’re right.” He smiles. “You want coffee?”
“Yeah, two,” I tell him, watching as he signals for one of the busboys to bring us two coffees.
“How’s Sylvia?” I inquire, talking about his wife.
“You’re driving, baby.” Her body turns toward me and I toss the Rover keys to her. She catches them, muttering something under her breath before stomping to the driver’s side, popping the locks, and getting in behind the wheel. Sliding into the passenger seat, I fight back my smile and the urge to pound my chest like some kind of caveman as she looks around the car. Her eyes sparkle with excitement and happiness, even though she tries to hide it as she starts up the car and moves her hands along the steering wheel.
“Do you think this would be a good time to tell you I don’t have my driver’s license?” she asks, putting the car in reverse, pressing the gas then braking hard, causing me to lurch forward before slamming back against my seat. Feeling my heart pound in my chest, I’m about to tell her we’ll add driving to the list, when she breaks into a fit of laughter that causes my chest to tighten.
Without thinking, I wrap my hand around the side of her head, tangling my fingers in her hair, and pull her towards me roughly, covering her mouth with mine and swallowing her laughter down my throat as I thrust my tongue into her mouth. Her hands on my chest that had started out pushing me away wrap around my shirt and pull me closer. Groaning as she whimpers, I start slowing down the kiss, swiping my tongue across hers once more, then pull her bottom lip into my mouth, giving it a tug and soft peck before reluctantly pulling my mouth away and placing my forehead against hers. Opening my eyes, I notice hers are still closed.
“That…that was wow,” she whispers, opening her eyes slowly and swallowing when our gazes connect. “Is it always like that?” she asks in a whisper.
Placing my other hand on the underside of her jaw, I mutter, “Never, baby.”
“We…um…” She looks away. “We should get breakfast,” she states after a long moment, slipping from my grasp, her eyes going to the windshield before looking at me once more. She shakes her head and places her fingers against her lips, taking a breath then shaking her head again.
“You taste like you smell,” I tell her, not wanting her to forget I’m here with her, that I’m still in the car, that just because my mouth isn’t on hers doesn’t mean I can’t still taste or feel her lips against mine, her hands wrapped around my shirt. Putting the car in reverse, she begins to back out without acknowledging my comment, which only eggs me on. I know she wants me as badly as I want her, and I refuse to let her ignore this thing brewing between us just because she’s afraid.
“I wonder if the rest of you tastes like that.” I smirk as she slams on the brakes, jolting the car. “You okay to drive, baby? I don’t mind taking over if you need time.”
“Jax,” she warns, turning to glare at me.
“Baby, unless you’re gonna give me something to eat at home,” I drop my eyes to her lap, “then take me to get food.” Lifting my gaze to hers, I watch her cheeks turn an even darker shade of pink that starts to spread down her neck.
“You really like embarrassing me, don’t you?” She frowns, breathing heavily, something that says she’s not embarrassed, but turned on.
“If you’re asking if I want to lick over the pink your skin turns to see if it has a flavor, then the answer is yes.”
“Oh, my God,” she whispers, covering her face with her hands.
Laughing, I pull her hands away from her face. “Okay, baby, I’ll stop.” Bringing one of her hands to my mouth and kissing it, I mutter, “Scout’s honor,” while holding up two fingers.
“I doubt you were ever a boy scout.” She rolls her eyes before looking over her shoulder and backing onto the street.
When we arrive at the restaurant, the place is packed, like it normally is on Saturday morning. You can tell by the crowd that most of the patrons were up late partying. Almost everyone has on sweats, and half are wearing sunglasses and holding coffee cups in their grasp, praying it cures the hangover they are suffering from. Placing my hand against Ellie’s lower back, I move us through the small restaurant to the back, where there is a free table for two, sitting close to the counter where you can watch the three cooks on the grill.
“Jax,” Jones, the owner and my friend, calls from behind the counter, where he’s stationed flipping eggs. Jones and I went to school together. He played football with me; his short, stocky build ruled the field every time he stepped onto the turf. He was our secret weapon. Hell, he still is.
“How’s it going, man?” I ask, pulling out Ellie’s chair for her to sit before taking my seat across from her, which gives me a view of the whole place.
“Can’t complain too much.” He smiles.
“You know you owe me ten on the Giants game, right?” I remind him, watching as he shakes his head, grinning.
“You’re really gonna make me pay up?” he asks, pointing at himself.
“Fuck yeah, you would’ve had my ass behind that grill if I lost.”
“You’re right.” He smiles. “You want coffee?”
“Yeah, two,” I tell him, watching as he signals for one of the busboys to bring us two coffees.
“How’s Sylvia?” I inquire, talking about his wife.
